


He Tastes of Coffee

by lastcrazyhorn



Series: Get What You Want [1]
Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Tom Barnaby, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastcrazyhorn/pseuds/lastcrazyhorn
Summary: You are one of Tom Barnaby's former sergeants.  You've had fun with him in the past, and hope to continue that today.
Relationships: Joyce Barnaby/Tom Barnaby, Tom Barnaby/Male Reader, Tom Barnaby/Reader
Series: Get What You Want [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080776
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5
Collections: Best_Reader_Inserts, Midsomer_Melee





	He Tastes of Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [two (nowstfucallicles)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowstfucallicles/gifts).



> **[Y/N] = Your Name.**

You wouldn't go so far as to say you _stalked_ Barnaby, because that would be a terribly uncouth thing to do (or admit to). But you can't deny the fact that you've kept an eye on him over the last decade or so. 

As one of his former Sergeants, it was literally your _job_ to keep an eye on him, and it's really not that easy a thing to turn off now.

It is especially difficult to forget him, particularly after what happened between the two of you at the Police Gala. 

It happened right before you were promoted to Inspector, and you remember the incident vividly. Barnaby, as one does at boring police functions, had gotten borderline drunk, and wound up pushing you into the coat room. There, in the biggest surprise of your life, he had dropped to knees and sucked you off. 

The very next day, you had been made Inspector, and not a month later, you had found yourself transferred elsewhere.

Therein lay your dilemma. _Had_ Barnaby been of sound mind the night he had his merry way with you? 

You called up his house and dear heavens above, Mrs Barnaby--Joyce--had picked up the phone. Pulling up your meager reserves of courage, and reminding yourself firmly that you were out of the range of her anger, you admitted to what had happened and asked for forgiveness.

But she had laughed and told you that _she_ had been the one to push him on into making the choice to begin with! She had informed you that she and Tom were in an _open relationship_ , and that he could do what he wanted with other men, as long as there were no other women involved. She told you that she was in fact in a long-term relationship with another lovely lady, at which point you told her you didn't really need the details. 

That might have been all well and good, but not three years later, you open the door to your flat and find the man at your doorstep. His smile bright, and your heart thumping loudly, he had given you a bullshit story about _being in the area._

Not one to turn down a visit from your former boss and friend, you invited him in. A short time later, you swallowed him down while coming hard in your fist.

He had toddled off to wherever he was really going, and you had gone in and taken a shower. 

You ended up working abroad for a few years, but ended up back in Causton after your mother fell ill. 

In-between worrying about your mother and visiting her in hospital, your mind wanders over to Barnaby, and you find yourself wondering if he has any interest in spending some time with you. 

He's on his what, third sergeant since you left? A lovely man by the name of Ben Jones, and he seems to be plugging along like always. You're glad he hasn't retired yet, and hoped you could get him alone at least once. 

Following his cases, you know that he has recently wrapped a big one, and since your mother is presently stable in her illness, you decide to call. 

Ringing his house, you get Joyce again and tell her your hopes. 

"Oh, [Y/N], that would be just grand. I know he would love to see you. I might have to take the weekend off too," She says. "Should I tell Tom to prepare himself? I use the strap-on with him, but I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to go at it for very long periods."

You stand, mouth open for long heartbeats, as you process what she has just said.

"Perhaps I was too forward. Tom says that's a failing of mine," She says, laughing lightly.

"I," You swallow hard and try again. "I was just caught off guard, is all."

"Yes well, I'm sorry if you were scandalised by what I said. I don't do subtle very well; especially not after living with Tom. I swear, sometimes I feel I'm shouting things in his face, and he still doesn't understand the point. Oh, well. Shall I tell him you plan to be here this weekend?"

"Yes, please."

. . .

You arrive at their house around six or so in the evening on Friday. Joyce greets you at the door with a kiss to the cheek, and she invites you in with a broad smile. 

"Well, now that you're here, I'll just be off then."

"Oh, when do we expect you back?"

"Late Sunday or so. Give Tom my love. Enjoy your time!" She laughs again, and with a salacious wink, she is out the door.

You stroll through the house, admiring various knickknacks and whatnot as you head toward the sound of Tom rustling around. 

You find him in the kitchen, looking forlornly into the refrigerator. He closes it with a sigh, and then turns to look at you with a start.

"[Y/N]!" He cries out, leaning toward you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

You frown as you realise he seems to be favoring one arm, but decide not to comment on it just yet.

You grab onto his shirt as he releases you and dive in for a kiss. He doesn't seem surprised, and you can feel his smile as he kisses you back. 

"I've missed you," You breathe out after you break apart.

"And I, you," He answers, voice low and serious.

You rub a thumb across his cheek, feeling the stubble, and enjoying that you have the time to indulge yourself. You let go and run a hand back through his hair. He's watching you with a half smile, and you smile back broadly.

Not particularly interested in talking, you lean back in for another kiss, nipping at his lower lip hard enough to leave a brief mark in it. You run your tongue over his teeth, and he grips at you like a drowning man who has just found harbour. 

You run your free hand down the front of his chest; while your other hand has found purchase in the hair at the back of his head, pulling him closer until you are touching chest to chest. He gives off a remarkable amount of heat, and your heart thumps loudly in your chest. 

You finally release his mouth and stand close enough to share his air, both of you breathing hard. You're not surprised that he tastes of coffee, and hope you can taste more of him as the weekend continues.

"Bedroom?" He asks in a deep growl.

"You don't want to get shagged on the floor?" You ask innocently.

A brief moan escapes his chest, and you are only aware of it because of how close you two are.

"No. I do not," He bites out.

You follow him to his bedroom, slapping him on the arse once and getting a smoldering look for it.

Once there, you push him in front of the wide mirror that sits on the wall opposite his and Joyce's bed. You both are facing toward it as you drape your arms over his shoulders. 

Hands on his chest, you stroke him through his button up as you suck lightly on the back of his neck. He shudders and grabs onto your left arm. 

"If you lean too much on my left shoulder, I'm apt to make some sort of embarrassing sound."

"I thought I saw you favouring that arm," You answer, pulling your weight back.

"Suspect got the jump on me," He answers, eyes distant as he recalls the moment. "Gave me a hell of a bruise."

You frown and kiss his shoulder. 

Hooking your left arm around his stomach, you start undoing his buttons one-handed from the top with your other. 

At his questioning look, you grin and say, "You're my toy, are you not?"

He barks a laugh and strokes his thumb over your fingers. 

"And I get to undress my toy," You whisper into his ear, delighting in his shiver at the sensation.

You pull off his shirt and carefully drape it over a nearby armchair. Now in his sleeveless undershirt, you can see the edge of the "bruise" sticking out around the cloth.

"I bet they called it a 'contusion' when you were getting checked out," You mutter, staring at the blackish-purple edges with a mix of horror and fascination.

You help him out of his undershirt and then carefully wrap yourself around his back once more. Your hands roam over his chest, up to his nipples and pecs, then back down the sides of his body. He's in surprisingly good shape, and you are captivated by the muscles in his forearms for more than a second.

"Next time I have a dry spell, how 'bout you send me a picture of your forearms, and I'll just jerk off to them, eh?" You ask, kissing down one arm. 

His laugh is genuine, and you quickly shrug out of your shirts as he does. 

"You're one to talk! Your biceps are twice as big as my head," He argues.

"Lies," You say, rolling your hips forward into his still clothed arse.

Reaching back up, he grabs a hold of your arm and pushes back against your body. You watch his face in the mirror, and smile to yourself as he closes his eyes, giving himself over to the sensation.

Having this man in your arms is a dream, and it ratchets your heart up even higher as he leans back onto your chest in obvious trust.

Your hands drop to his belt line, and you dive your fingers under the edge of his trousers, finding a line of especially warm skin. 

He inhales at your action, but doesn't stop you. You push one hand lower, finding the "v" where his leg meets groin, and he groans in response. 

You rub a thumb over a nipple and snap open his belt with the other hand. 

"Fuck, you're sexy," You whisper, undoing the button at the top of his trousers. 

"I assure you," He answers, bright eyes catching yours in the mirror, "You are part of a very small few who thinks so." 

"A lucky few, then," You banter back.

You pull his trousers down over his groin, keeping them away from the bulge where his cock sits, and drop them to the ground. They land on the carpet with a thump, and he steps out of them easily, turning around to look at you.

You pull your jeans off without much care as to where they land. Boxers are next, and then you hook your thumbs in the elastic of his briefs, pulling him toward you. 

"You're gorgeous," He tells you.

You blush and catch his lips again. He's in control this time, and he bends you backward with a strength belying his age. 

He pushes you onto the bed and then shimmies out of his briefs carefully. He's hard, and you're sitting at eye level with his cock. It's easy to lean forward and catch him in your mouth. Drool collects almost instantly in the corners of your lips, especially after you hear the hitch of his breath from above you. 

You can smell him, and his clean musk amps up your arousal to the point that you can feel it singing in your blood. Your mouth stretches as you gorge yourself on his cock, and he hisses as you lightly scrape your teeth on the underside. 

You smile at the sound, and stick your tongue in his slit to catch the drop of precome that's begun gathering at the tip.

Pulling back with a wide smile, you move backward onto the bed proper, and beckon him toward you. 

"Pull the duvet back," He orders breathlessly, climbing after you. 

You do, and soon you are both ensconced in clean fresh smelling sheets. 

"We wouldn't want to leave a wet spot on something that needs special cleaning, would we?" You ask, wrapping your arms around his chest and pulling him in closer.

He pushes his chest against yours and you both groan a little. He's smooth where you're hairy, and briefly you wonder if he shaves. He's rocking on your lap as he kisses you, and you are absolutely drowning in the feel of him all around you.

You break the kiss and touch the side of his face. 

"Your wife told me you like anal?"

This time it's a groan of frustration. 

"Joyce told you that?" He is breathless in his dismay.

"She said she has a _strap-on_ ," You answer, sucking a line down his neck.

He rolls his eyes heavenward and then nods toward the side table. 

"Lube's in the top drawer, rubbers too."

"And if I told you I wanted to go bareback?" 

His eyes are more piercing than before. 

"I'd say," He is careful in his response, even as his stiff cock pokes you in the belly. "I'd say I hope you've had a recent blood test and are clean."

"Paperwork's in my car," You answer, biting down on his collarbone. 

He moans and you stay on that spot for several seconds as the flush on his cheeks continues to rise. 

"Hands and knees?" You ask, snagging the lube and disregarding the rubbers.

He turns around without a word, and gives you a faceful.

"Gosh, that's a pretty hole," You whisper as he buries his face in the bed. 

You grab hold of his hip with a hand and drag a finger down his crack with the other. 

He yelps and you smile. 

"Sensitive?" You ask, kneading his buttocks and marvelling at the muscle.

"A bit," He grunts out. 

"How many fingers should I start with?"

"Two should be fine," He answers, clenching his eyes shut and grabbing onto the side of the mattress.

"Shhh," You instruct, rubbing a hand down his spine. "Relax. I've got you."

You're gentle with him and work two fingers in together. He's breathing loudly, and you yank on your balls to avoid embarrassing yourself. His reactions are turning you on to no end, and you pray that you can hold on. 

You've been turned on before, but never with someone you've had such a close relationship with. One on hand, you hope that you don't hurt him, but on the other, you hope that you can see what it looks like should you do so accidentally. 

You realise you might be a little bit of a sadist, and it's not the first time you've had that realisation.

You fit in a third finger, and then stop and add more lube; better wet and sloppy than too dry. 

"Did you know that you can fit two full grown raccoons in your arse before causing serious damage?" You ask, sliding a wet hand down and around your cock.

"How do you figure?" His voice is muffled from where his face is pressed into the mattress.

"The rectum can stretch 8 inches and raccoons can fit into spaces only 4 inches wide."

"Huh."

"Here, sit up," You instruct, pulling your fingers out with a _slurk_ that makes you swallow hard.

You pull him up so that his legs are straddling your own, and he reaches back blindly for your cock. 

His hand on your body feels glorious, and you help him guide it into his body carefully. 

The first nudge inward makes you both groan. He is sliding down slowly by way of gravity, and you grab onto his hips for security. The feel is more than amazing. Hot slick heat embraces you, and you can feel the shaking of his body as it opens to accommodate you. 

You get all the way in and he grabs onto your arm, hand vice-like.

"Do not move," He grits out, head thrown back in helpless abandon.

You reach up and run a hand down his chest, pausing when you reach his groin. He shudders as you touch his cock, pink blossoming anew on his cheeks. 

"Push out. Breathe," You instruct in a commanding voice. 

He takes an unsteady breath in and also out. The vice like feel around you diminishes slightly. You rub your wet hand down his cock, feeling where it has dropped to being only half hard. You slowly stroke him, and he shudders at the sensation, grabbing onto your hand but not stopping you. 

You roll your hips a fraction and he curses. You direct his head back so that he is leaning it on your shoulder, and you kiss his lips gently. 

You raise his hips up half an inch and let gravity bring him back down while still kissing him. His body feels like your personal instrument, and you hold him close and gently fuck upward as he slowly gets used to the sensation. 

A few times, his bruised shoulder comes in contact with you, but he doesn't say anything, mind clearly too full of other things to notice that discomfort.

After a while, he moans, and pulls himself upward of his own volition.

"God, yes," He mutters, and you begin to push and pull his body with his express permission.

You rise up into him as he comes down to meet you; his fingers leaving white marks on your thighs and stomach as he works his way up and down on your cock. 

He changes the angle and cries out weakly, knees attempting to come together. You bring your legs up and his legs come up too, pushing him backward back onto your chest. Your feet are flat on the bed and you spread your legs and his simultaneously.

"Tom," You say.

"Tom."

"What?" His voice is haggard, eyes clenched shut as you fuck harder and harder into him.

"Look into the mirror. God, you look so fucking sexy," You moan. 

With some trouble, he opens his eyes and his breath hitches at the sight. 

"You look like something out of a movie."

Whatever his response is going to be is lost as you start pulling on his cock once more. He tightens in response to your touch and the pleasure suddenly moves down your cock without warning. 

Head back, neck exposed, cock disappearing in your large hands, watching his hole as it repeatedly gets spread and _violated_ by your body is suddenly too much. You're coming and he lets out a high pitched hurt sound as you come deeply into him.

You roll your hips carefully as you pulse inside his body, jacking him off without much finesse. 

"So fucking sexy," You whisper into his ear, speeding up your hand. "Love having you in hand. You're going to come, I can feel it. Come on, come on," You urge. 

He clenches down almost to the edge of pain and suddenly cries out. Dollops of white begin to cover his chest, and you can feel his pleasure as closely as if it were your own. You continue to work his cock until his fingers grab onto you painfully tight. 

"Uh," He manages, still shuddering. 

Your cock is still inside him, and you can feel his body as it shakes around you. 

"Tom?" 

"Uh," He gasps out, hand finally releasing yours. 

You lick the tears off his cheek and decide not to mention them.

He relaxes atop you, still shaking a bit, and takes several deep breaths. 

You trace his abdomen with your finger, bypassing his cock and balls, before finally stopping at the spot where you two are still joined. He's stretched around you, and this time you shiver. You look at the mirror and find him watching and you grin at him. 

"You're going to leak when you come off me," You point out, your voice hushed in awe. "God, I wish you were going back to work today . . ." You trail off. "I can just imagine you leaking into your pants. Maybe making a wet spot at the back of your trousers. God."

"That sounds horrifying," He quips, starting to lean forward. 

He puts his hands in front of himself on the bed and starts to put weight on his arms, slowly disengaging from you. You can see his triceps flex as he starts to take on his own weight, and suddenly you slip free. 

His hole winks at you, refusing to close, and like you predicted, a globule of your cum mixed with lube starts to drip down his crack. 

"God," Your voice is hoarse as you watch. 

He shivers and pulls his legs underneath him. He rests for a moment, his hole valiantly trying--and failing--to close. 

"How do you feel?" You ask.

"Well fucked," He answers, his voice gravelly. "And tired." 

You smile. 

"We've got all weekend," You point out.

"I'm going to need some time alone with the toilet," He decides, pulling himself upright with a small grimace. 

"Let me know if you need any help," You say. 

He glares at you and limps to the other room. You eyeball your groin and decide that a shower wouldn't be amiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yay or Nay. Shall I add another segment from Tom's POV?


End file.
